Bait and Switch
by Vilinye
Summary: My theories of what might happen in Wedding of River Song, Angels Take Manhattan, and Name of the Doctor, written before the episodes aired. As such, varying amounts of spoilers.
1. Utah

They'd been here before, hadn't they? River and Amy and the Doctor and he—and the astronaut.

"Whatever happens now, you do not interfere."

But Rory remembered a shot from the astronaut and another and his wife wailing over the Time Lord's body. He ran up to the Doctor, knocking him over just as the astronaut fired.

"Rory?' The Doctor gasped. "You shouldn't… shouldn't have done that."

Rory stared at the suit. "Who are you? Just tell me, who are you?"

The visor slid up.

Rory took a step backwards. "You?'

A frown of intense concentration crept across the astronaut's face, but the programming was too strong. It fired again.

"Rory!" Amy screamed; in this timeline, River didn't hold her back. Amy ran, nearly falling on the sand besides him. "Rory, talk to me you stupid idiot!"

"Amy. I love you."

"Doctor, Doctor do something!" Amy felt for a pulse.

"It's a fixed point that a legend would die here. A mighty warrior, older than he appears, who would never abandon the ones he loves." The Doctor turned away. "But it was supposed to be me."

Amy stumbled to her feet, glaring up at the motionless astronaut. "Who do you think you are, you-"

No.

No, it couldn't be.

"River?" The word was barely audible. "But you were just there—with us—" Amy gestured to the picnic blanket: empty.

Amy's daughter had murdered her own father. _You killed a man? _

_The best man I've ever known._

The world's edges blurred. "Doctor," she whispered. "Help me." But as her mind fled, Amy Pond knew two—no, three- things.

She would never forgive them for this.

She could never go back home.

She would stay in the TARDIS until she died.


	2. New York

The New York cemetery was ominously quiet for the middle of the afternoon. Amy pushed on ahead, leading River and the Doctor through the crumbling headstones. Near a marble wall, the Weeping Angel reached with outstretched arms, as if to embrace the mourners. "Don't look away. Don't look at its eyes, and don't look away," the Doctor warned River.

Amy rubbed the back of her hand across her face, but her cheeks remained dry. She paused for a moment, glancing down at a memorial by her foot. The name seared her vision like a camera flash. Then she looked over her shoulder at the Doctor, smiled, and kept walking.

"No, no don't do this, please!" The Doctor ran forward, but River grabbed his arm.

"There's nothing we can do!" Tears dripped down her face. "This has already happened."

Amy closed her eyes. All it took was a blink, and she was gone.

"Amy, Amy! No." The Doctor ran forward, trying to pull her away. Instead, he tripped over the tombstone. "Amy…Amy."

"Doctor," River pointed at the writing. "You need to read this."

"Rory Williams, 1980-1969; yes, I know." He yanked away a clump of grass, revealing more words. "Amelia Pond, 1983-1971. Fish fingers and custard."

River laid a hand on his shoulders. "There was nothing we could do. Nothing."

Based on filming information for season seven episode five. For Valentine from the Teaspoon and an Open Mind fanfic community.


	3. Trenzalore

She'd have to time everything just perfectly. It takes a lot of power to create a projection from a closed-off planet, but coordinating with the TARDIS to connect at the proper point in his timeline is nearly impossible. _Nearly—_she always did love that word.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Cal asks.

She can already sense the timelines rewriting, reeling him in like a fish on the line. No, she's not. She wants more time to check the calculations, to harden herself against his grief. But it will have to do. "Don't stop until I tell you." They'd never tried this before—she hadn't thought it worth the risk. But the winds whispered of Trenzalore, and she isn't done protecting him just because she'd died.

Cal sends the transmission.

_It doesn't hurt. _ For a moment, surprise, though pleasant, blocks all other thoughts. It's been so long since anything surprised her in Cal's automated world. Blue light shines on her skin. On, not through—she's solid, or appears to be. A gift from the TARDIS, River knows, and wonders if she'd be real enough for one more kiss.

But he isn't there—a girl is, dark-haired and small. Clara. River had read all the records, extrapolated from the holes in history, hoping he'd kept his promise to find someone. And of all the people in all the universe, he fell into the same trap again. An agent of the Silence. Unaware, yes, but she knew too much about programming to assume that made things any simpler.

She wants to tell the girl everything—that how you came to be isn't as important as what you chose to be, that weapons can be re-forged and memories can shape the universe, but there isn't enough time for that. "Whatever you're doing, don't."

"He needs you, not me." Clara doesn't startle or jump at another voice—her gaze is fixed on the time rotor. "Without me, he'll never reach Trenzalore."

"Please—let me explain—there are fixed points—"

Clara's body begins to glow. "Not yet. I can reach him, warn him."

Before River could do anything, the light from the column wraps around Clara and she disappears. The girl is only echoes now, the same face repeated a hundred times throughout history.


End file.
